


f a m I L Y

by w3dn3sd4y



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (and then i wrote this so that didn’t work out i guess), (i’m sorry i just want everyone to be good and happy), Alternate Universe - Human, Author has ADHD, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Like, Minor Character Death, Oh, SPOILER ALERT:, Slight Transphobia, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, They’re all brothers!!, Trans Character, Trans Deceit, Trans Male Character, and it shows, and virgil asking him to read a bedtime story because he does the best voices, as all my work will probably be, because i live for soft deceit ig, but i have a concept written with deceit having to tell remus to brush his teeth, he does get dead named bc their mom is a sack of flaming garbage, idk how to phrase this but, idk if this will be more than a one shot, its their mom, no beta we die like gender nonconforming goblins, this is more serious than my other stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23012527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/w3dn3sd4y/pseuds/w3dn3sd4y
Summary: Dee always protected his siblings.Patton, with his too-big heart and tired eyes.Logan, with his stark intelligence and knowing looks.The twins, Roman and Remus, with their creativity and openness to the world.And Virgil, who’s a little behind in his development.But maybe some things aren’t meant to last forever...
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton & Deceit Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit Sanders, Theyre all brothers, the whole gang - Relationship
Comments: 27
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is so au it hurts me so I’m gonna give y’all a quick rundown
> 
> In this first part:  
> Dee is 15  
> Patton is 13  
> Logan is 12  
> Roman and Remus are both 7  
> Virgil is 18 months (which is a developmental stage I actively looked into only for Virgil to just be mentioned, basically.)

Dee had a presentation for health class. Something simple: teen pregnancy. (If he really felt like scarring his younger brother, he would make Logan do it for him.) 

Now, he never really understood why someone his age would get pregnant. Sure, schools didn’t exactly cover safe sex methods beyond abstinence—an impossible feat in the cesspool of horror-mones that high school was—which was a topic his health teacher, Carol, loved to go over (and over and over.)

He figured one night in his house was a good enough deterrent but when he’d mentioned that to Carol as a joke, she didn’t think it was very funny. So here he was, using one of the school’s shitty chrome books on his phone’s hotspot, hoping he could finish in time for Logan to type up his English paper before bed. 

Of course, that plan went crashing down with the crashing sound from downstairs. Dee—while never happier to have a designated homework time to keep his siblings in their rooms—knew what that meant. It sounded like their mom was home. Just what he needed. 

“Lydia!” The devil herself called from the kitchen. Dee and Logan barely made eye contact, collectively cringing at the wrong name that he had corrected too many times to try again.

With a long sigh, he turned away from his homework, passing the chrome book to Logan on his way downstairs. (The soft “good luck” that followed him only gave him a little hope for whatever bullshit she was going to pull.)

He got to the kitchen just in time to see her pouring herself a glass of cheap wine. It had to be a new bottle since he had thrown away what she’d left behind when Remus started asking for “mommy juice.” (Luckily, he thought it grew new moms. Unluckily, Dee had to explain that it didn’t and now both of the twins had a million more questions that Dee wasn’t prepared to answer.)

“There you are,” she scoffed, taking a long gulp of wine before turning back to him. “Did you cut your hair?”

Dee fiddled with his beanie, shuffling on his feet. She’d been back home a few times since the big chop. Had even complimented him on it when she was too drunk to care—if “you look like a lesbian” was considered a compliment. (Dee took it as one. He didn’t get much from the woman, so he would take what he could.)

“Yeah,” he said, “got some gum in it.”

His mom let out a sigh, setting down her glass to fiddle with the locks sticking out underneath his favorite hat. Dee barely resisted a flinch at the sudden carefulness of her touch. Careful was a bad sign. Careful meant she needed something. “‘S a real shame.”

He nodded. 

“You had such pretty hair, Lyds,” she said softly. Her breath burned his eyes like rubbing alcohol. (Definitely cheap wine, then.)

He nodded again, if only to convince her he agreed. (He didn’t. He hated his long hair. The only advantage was when Roman got to play with it, though Remus was growing out his hair for that now—mostly due to his banishment from scissors.)

She continued to press her hand to his hair, like he would vanish if she stopped. The simple gesture felt wrong coming from her. Petting was a Patton thing. A gentle thing in the dark of the night that neither of them talked about in the morning. When they’d finally gotten Virgil down. When the twins and Logan were fast asleep. When all the stress of school and work and raising their own siblings got to them. Dee wished he could disappear if she stopped. (He really didn’t. He was needed so badly around here it wasn’t even funny.)

Eventually she did, though her hand only slid down to his cheek. 

He shifted away from her touch, hardening his resolve. This was getting them nowhere. “Did you need something or was the glass all?”

She laughed at the accusation, though it felt faker than her dollar store nails. “I need money.”

“So do we.” Dee crossed his arms. “Do you know how much it costs to feed five kids?”

“I _give you_ money,” she defended, “You always do this. Am I not enough for you?”

“You give me like thirty bucks a month.” Dee felt his hands shaking but held his ground. “That’s a dollar a day. For _five kids._ That’s less than the twin’s field trip cost last week. That’s less than _fucking_ _food stamps._ Do you even know how much Virgil’s daycare costs?”

“I give you shelter!” His mom spat. “Don’t you work? Where’s your money?”

“None of your fucking business!” Dee followed her, knowing she’d start searching if he didn’t do something. 

She would never find his new hiding spot. She didn’t know about the trick floorboards he and Patton had installed after one of her particularly bad manic phases. The one where she’d taken $2,000 dollars and disappeared for months. The one where Virgil stopped recognizing her. The one that Dee had never properly explained to Logan and the twins in fear that they’d start to worry. (“Mommy’ll be back” only works for so long. Dee wasn’t the reassuring sibling. That’s what he had Patton for.)

Of course, she probably knew this. She wasn’t stupid. (Logan was her son, after all.) 

She also knew Dee’s weak points. 

“Boys—!” She started, letting herself be cut off by Dee’s desperate pleas, turning to him expectantly. 

“I don’t—We can’t—” Dee let out a rough sigh. “Look, what do you _need?”_

“500?” She asked. 

Dee shook his head. “100.”

“300?” She bartered. 

“100.” Dee held his ground. 

“250,” his mom said, “no lower.”

“50. No higher.” He retorted. 

She scoffed. “You ungrateful little bitch—”

“It’s my money,” Dee said, “50. Take it or leave it.”

“I raised you and this is how you treat me?” She fake sobbed into her wine glass. 

Dee sent her a dry look. “Grandma raised me. You were just in the background.”

Her fake sobs were joined by real tears, probably spewed from some other situation—whatever she needed the money for, Dee was guessing. If she were dealing with Patton, she’d already be on her merry way. (Which was why Patton wasn’t allowed to talk to her when she was like this. None of Dee’s brothers were.)

“I’ll be right back with 50.” Dee said, shooting Patton a text to get the money from their hiding spot so their mom wouldn’t find it by following him. 

Her sobbing evened out and soon she was pouring herself another glass. Dee took her silence as a yes, making his way up the stairs. 

His brothers stood at the top, curious and waiting. Roman and Remus had made it a game to see past the banister. If Logan hadn’t taken it upon himself to monitor them, Dee was sure the duo would have jumped it already. Patton had a half-asleep Virgil on his hip, holding out $50 for Dee somewhat reluctantly. He knew it wouldn’t be used for anything good. 

“Can we say hi to mama?” Roman asked, leaning on the railing to see if she was even still there. 

Dee set a gentle hand on his head. (He was getting tall. Taller than even Logan was at his age. Remus wasn’t far behind, either.) “I don’t think that’s a good idea, my prince.”

“Is she in one of her moods?” Remus asked, trying to use his inside voice to the best of his ability, much to Dee’s relief. 

Dee sent Patton a look for help. It was getting harder and harder to shield the twins from the harsh reality of their situation. Logan was already a lost cause, having asked these questions before kindergarten. Dee just wished he could keep the twins innocent for a little longer. They deserved that much. 

“Come on, gang.” Patton waved a hand, gaining the youngest three’s attention. “I think it’s about time we got to bed.”

Though the twins whined, a sharp look from Dee told them not to argue and the four of them were down the hall in no time. 

Logan, of course, remained, staring Dee down as he slipped the money into an envelope to at least feign professionalism. It was all he had left. His mom had already taken so much. 

When he got back downstairs, she had given up on her glass, drinking straight from the bottle. “Took you long enough.”

Dee rolled his eyes, handing her the envelope (decorated with an eloquent “fuck you.”) “You can’t keep doing this.”

His mom let out an intoxicated laugh. “Think of it as rent money for you and the freeloaders.”

Dee knew better than to fight her now. She was armed with a bottle and few regrets. And now that she had what she wanted, he was of little consequence. He doubted she understood the definitions of any of the words she just used, let alone the ages of her own children.

When she’d finished her shitty rant, she handed Dee her empty bottle (he put it in the recycling, making a mental note to get rid of it before Roman and Remus found it in the morning.) And, with her keys in hand, she vanished into the night once again. Dee wasn’t sure when or if he’d ever see her again. And that was how it always was when she left. 

The normality of it almost felt wrong as he headed back upstairs, turning off the kitchen light on the way. 

Logan was sitting on the top stair when he got there, staring into the kitchen like the counters had done him wrong. “She was just asking for money again, wasn’t she?” 

Dee let out a sigh, sitting beside his brother. Logan was only 12 and he already knew too much about the world and how it worked. Hell, a good chunk of their monthly income was from Logan’s tutoring sessions. 

“She always does,” Dee admitted.

Logan sent him a barely-there, soft look. “We’ll get out of here someday, right?”

Dee nodded. “Of course we will, Lo. We’re gonna live in a castle designed by the twins. We’ll have enough room for a million dogs—all the kinds Patton likes. There’ll be a lab for you to do your experiments. And maybe we can get one of those foam pits that Virgil likes so much. The kind at Rome and Reem’s old gymnastics place.”

Logan laughed, covering it in his hand. “And what about you, Dee?”

“I’d get to see all of you happy,” Dee said without a second thought. 

And in the morning, when police officers showed up at their front door, he realized Logan was right. They were getting out of there. And it was happening much sooner than they thought. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m just gonna warm you, i know nothing about child protective services or social services. i did a bit of research but have no person experience and will probably gloss over the whole legal process of this... because i can (:

Dee still remembered when she brought the twins home, all red and pink and still fresh. He was about 8 with Patton and Logan not far behind. He’d never really seen a baby. Not one that he remembered, anyway. 

Grandma had just passed earlier that year and while it was getting easier for Dee to remind their mom to pick up groceries and pay the bills, it was getting harder for her to actually do it. Of course, she would leave money on the table and the grocery store was only a twenty-minute walk away. (That was closer than school on days when they missed the bus and their mom couldn’t take them because she was still hungover.)

And it was getting easier to hold all the bags now that he had two tiny humans to lug around the house. 

Their mom didn’t interact with the twins much. They were too loud and smelly and she ‘didn’t need that.’ (She was only half right. Roman was loud—constantly crying. Remus didn’t even babble yet.)

Dee didn’t get why that put  _ him  _ in charge, though. He was eight. He’d never even treated his  _ dolls _ well. Of course, by the time he realized they  _ weren’t _ his responsibility, they  _ were.  _ He wouldn’t just leave his brothers to starve. They were babies. What else was he supposed to do?

And then Virgil came along and it was different. His dad stayed around and told jokes and let the twins call him dad too, even though they looked nothing alike. He’d buy them groceries when mom forgot and would take them to school when they missed the bus. 

He was a genuinely good guy. (Too good for their mom.)

Of course, when Virgil looked nothing like him either, he didn’t stay around for much longer. 

And then she left too. 

She left and missed Virgil’s first babbles. She missed Logan’s birthday. His science fair. The twins’ first play. Patton’s first breakdown. Dee’s slow transition from who he wasn’t to who he was. Then she missed Virgil’s birthday. And Patton’s. And Dee’s. 

Then March rolled around and she was back and worse than ever. She’d spent all her money—the money she’d stolen, grandma’s savings, all of it. And she was asking for more. Like Dee working two jobs to support his family wasn't enough stress. Like the hours of tutoring and mowing lawns and crying when everyone else had gone to sleep were nothing. Like he wasn’t already finding grey hairs—at 15! 

What had become an endless routine—school, work, sleep—was broken apart by her sporadic visits. Her too-soft words that coerced Patton so often that he was banned from talking to her. Her empty promises to the twins to get them on ‘her side,’ whatever that was supposed to mean. Her lies that were becoming too much for even Dee—whose second nature was becoming a lie. (“It’ll be fine.” “We’ll get out of this.” “Why don’t we split up my share, I’m not that hungry tonight, anyway.”)

And, of course, it all had to come crashing down. Didn’t it?

Dee slammed the door as soon as he saw their badges. He heard them mumbling to themselves, obviously confused by his sudden reaction. His siblings, all packed for school and daycare, stood behind him in confusion. (Virgil had even started crying. He hated loud noises—especially yelling and door slams. Dee knew this. He felt like such an asshole.)

“Please,” A woman’s voice sounded through the door after a minute. “You’re not in any trouble.”

“Do you have a warrant?” Dee asked, trying to make his voice deeper than it was. It didn’t work. (A wave of dysphoria he couldn’t focus on crashed over him.)

More muffled conversation. 

Dee shooed his siblings back into the living room. None of them moved. Patton sent him a worried look, he ignored it, turning his gaze back to the door when the woman spoke again. 

“Lydia, we just want to talk.” (Another wave. The improper binding around his chest felt tighter.)

Dee grit his teeth. “May I ask who I’m talking to?”

“Katherine Kennard, Child Protective Services,” the woman answered. 

Dee shifted on his feet. He didn’t trust this. He didn’t trust this one bit. 

“Dee,” Patton whispered. Dee spun around to face his brothers, trying to even out his breathing.  _ (This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening.) _

“Maybe we should let them in,” Patton continued, obviously distraught.

He didn’t understand what that would mean. He didn’t know where they would go if they were taken away. Hell,  _ Dee  _ didn’t even know. He’d thought about it, of course, late in the night when he and Logan had finished budgeting so they could afford groceries for the week. When Patton was busy with the twins and Virgil was being a little too quiet for an 18-month-old. When he was alone and out of other things to worry about.

It wasn’t like they’d stay together. Other than the twins, all of them had different dads—if those even counted anymore. They didn’t even know who Virgil’s other parent was, let alone Dee and Patton’s.  _ They couldn’t be separated. Dee worked too hard for them to be separated. _

A hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his own head. This time it was Logan, staring into Dee’s eyes with a too-mature gaze. Behind him, the twins were starting to look worried.  _ It was only going to get worse. _

The rest happened in a blur. Patton—sweet, innocent Patton—let the officers in. The woman—Katherine Kennard—didn’t seem surprised when none of them asked what happened to their mom. 

Dee wasn’t surprised to learn she’d overdosed. He  _ was _ surprised when no one forced them apart. He  _ was _ surprised when they piled into the same, shifty, government-owned vehicle and headed to the local CPS facility. He  _ was _ surprised when they got to the building and no one tore Virgil from him and forced them into different sectors. He was surprised until they were ushered into a solitary room, Remus holding one of his hands and Roman trying for the other despite the child in his arms.

There were several, uncomfortable-looking, plastic chairs scattered in front of a table. Arguably too many chairs, although Dee suspected they wanted all of them to sit separately. With barely a glance at Virgil, still clinging with all his little might, Dee took a seat, shifting his brother in his lap. 

The rest of his siblings followed, quieter than usual. 

There was an uncomfortable air in the room. Like they were all waiting for the inevitable moment they’d be pulled apart. Dee was having trouble keeping himself together under the weight of it all. Patton was already quietly crying, holding onto the twins’ hands like they’d disappear if he let go. Logan was obviously forcing himself to look calm—Dee could barely see his shaking hands from where he’d shoved them into his coat pockets. 

They were all kind of breaking apart. 

Then, suddenly, a door on the other side of the room pushed open. 

A soft-looking woman walked through, a small smile on her face. The look in her eyes reminded Dee of their grandma. It was definitely better than the analytical eyes of Katherine Kennard, who’d brought them in. 

“Are you the Sanders?” She asked, checking the manila folder in her hands for confirmation. 

“No, were the other set of six siblings whose mom od’ed,” Dee said sarcastically. 

The woman’s soft stare didn’t falter for a second. Dee supposed she was used to kids like him. (Fuck ups without anywhere else to go.) 

“I’m not sure we have another case like yours right now,” she said like it was a secret. “Don’t worry too much though, you’ll be out of here in no time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dee asked defensively. 

“Well,” the woman said with another overly soft smile, “Your dad is already on his way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come bully me on [Tumblr](https://w3dn3sd4y.tumblr.com/).


End file.
